Your Tube carriage, yes that grand great method of venturing around good old London town. Bromigo Bojangles here again and he knows exactly the type of people that you will encounter on your train. The tube is a London landmark but also is overcrowded and full of the wonders of mankind.

The Listen-to-My-Shit Tube Traveller

Yes blud, banging tunes

‘Yes blud, I is banging the latest drake, I finks u manz needs to hearz this shit’. The degenerates of the human race wearing Dr Dre beats and deafening commuters around them [Read more…]

I hate betas. I really fucking hate betas. The way they look, the way they walk, the way they talk, the way they get excited like a little kid when a girl talks to them, the way they get in my way, the vacant look in their eyes of fear and mediocrity, the way they peddle out the same boring jokes, the way they conform and roll over to people, the way they stumble over their mates they’ve known for years to beat them to a girl they’ve just literally met, their lack of hygiene, their lack of self consciousness, their moaning and defeatism, the oneitis after oneitis, their lack of ambition, their cockblocking, how their relationships with girls is a one man mission to keep her happy, their lack of motivation for self improvement, their consumerism and constant up-to-date purchases, the way they’re always taking pictures of boring shite to put on Facebook and just in general, their existence.

So I met up with the RSG guys on a Friday night, well namely two fellas named Tony T and Burto, this was the start of the path to enlightenment. I was unprepared, I knew fuck all about the market and what went on in the pick up world. The guys explained what they (RSG) were about, how they (RSG) came together as a group and what made them different from the rest of the pickup artists operating in London. I explained to Burto how I’d been approached by Gambler and others who were charging fortunes for so called ‘training’ and that I was glad I was not conned into losing a huge amount more than what RSG/Sarge School was charging.

I had not read the book ‘The Game’ by Neil Strauss which seemed to have started off this whole ‘scene’. [Read more…]

The online social world (Facebook/Twatter/Instacrap) has followed a similar path to that of the real world where people are being socially conditioned like patients residing in your local mental asylum. That’s why it’s very easy for me to tell you what is being shown on your Facebook feed and what the Bromigos are seeing on their feeds.

First off we have the moaner with Facebook being a place to express feelings and how shitty your life is. “God today was so shit” “Fuck you London Underground making me years late for work” “I hate my fucking dog” “my brother is making my life shit, won’t let me play COD, cunt”. Passive aggressive or just straight off aggressive updates to get the most attention possible. These cunts like pages similar to “I’m special, you don’t deserve my ass” and the ilk. Avoid, avoid, avoid communication with Moses and his friends like HIV.

Hey all, it’s Bojangles here with a quick post on that disgraceful oneitis disease which destroys a man’s manliness and reduces him to a withering, whimpering, whimsical wreck. oneitis sucks

The last time one of the Bromigo’s suffered from this terrible affliction of oneitis was last year was our lad Matt. The source of his unnatural oneitis affection was this Italian lady. kill oneitis

We’ve all been through it, it leads to a total incapacitation of the man’s logic, reason and interest in hobbies, hygiene and restful sleep. Thankfully Matt had his Bromigos and his side guns in hand and he’s forgotten about his unnatural affection for this lady from afar. Get rid of oneitis

Bojangles and myself wake up after a refreshing, healthy sleep without hangovers because hangovers are for sissies. I check my phone and I have a message from Jimmy inviting us round for some steaks and to have a relaxing evening.

We head down the road and sit in a cafe debating what we should do. We’re feeling on top of the world after last night and after everything that’s happened, the consensus is that I’m able to get my American flag and Bojangles will wing me tonight. On the other hand, a night at Jimmy’s with steak and movies sounds boss.

Bojangles puts some feeler texts out with Twin 1 and even though they’re sporting hangovers, they’re still up for going out. I need my hair cut and head off to get that done and leave Bojangles to sort the night out and let Jimmy know what we’re doing.

I get a great example of beta game sitting in the hairdresser’s from the guy next to me trying to chat up a Nicki Minaj wannabe who is cutting his hair. I can see her skin shriveling up as all the moisture in her body dries from his pathetic questions and awkward laughing. They just don’t know what they’re doing wrong.

Bojangles texts me saying that we’re heading out to Piccadilly and we go grab a nice juicy meal before meeting with the girls and this is where we get the first red flag of the night. Twin 1 misinterprets a text from Bojangles and thinks we’re not coming so has changed their plans and will be arriving an hour and a half later than originally agreed.

We shrug it off and go and sit in a coffee shop. The calm before the storm – relaxing, enjoying the silence and preparing ourselves for the night ahead. As the crowd hustles about through and outside the coffee shop, we just sit there with our thoughts and on occasion remarking on passers by and half decent girls.

An opportunity arises as we sit there. A sexy, blonde Russian woman in her mid twenties is sitting at the table next to us. We’ve seen what we assume to be her boyfriend come and go and now she is sat there alone reading a book and munching on some chocolate. Bojangles lets me know he’s interested and I head to the toilet to let him do his thing. In some situations, you don’t want to crowd a girl out and make her feel intimidated so I’ve let Bojangles have his time with her and once I’m done with the toilet, stand around on my phone out of sight to give them a bit longer.

Well we certainly do and like every week we’d all been counting down the days until we could get stuck in to the finest tapas in London along with the finest cocktails in London.

Friday nights are the men’s nights where The Three Bromigos head out, not with any intent on pulling or being those “creepy PUA types chasing women on the street”, but to enjoy each other’s company and to talk business as well as our plans for the future. All good natured and occasionally we laugh at some betas and neg some waitresses for fun.

The clock hath chimed 6pm signalling the end to my overtime at work and I made my way to Angel to meet Bojangles and Jimmy who also would be bringing his Croatian girlfriend. Yes, we let a girl invade our men’s night but we make an exception for the beautiful and feminine on rare occasions. We dined like kings with a plethora of meats available to us (as well as patatas bravas) and sipped on our cocktails and laughed for a few hours before heading separate ways. Jimmy and his girlfriend one way, and Bojangles and myself the other.

There’s nothing like an evening in the company of alpha men. If you have a group of friends that are alpha then you should get together regularly. It’s good for your inner game and it adds value to your life to be in the company of people you hold in high regard and really respect. I find it’s also good to get an injection of alpha company at the end of a beta and feminist infested week as it keeps you back on track and from getting miserable.

Not too dissimilar to this

These are two men who I would do anything for. If you put Bojangles or Jimmy on my left who wanted me to do something for them, and a solid 10 to my right who was down to fuck then I would choose my friends every time. It’s important to have people like that in your life. Plus, tapas can be expensive with my big appetite so I need people to split the bill with.

Anyway, this is where the night changed. Bojangles is “friends” with a solid 10 from a few years ago who is now married and living in Scotland. She was coming down to London for the weekend to see her twin sister and had invited us over for some drinks. When I say a 10, I really mean the whole package. Beauty, brains, femininity, submissive to high value men and most importantly of all, not English. Her twin sister, whose apartment we were going to, would clock in at an 8.5 in my opinion. She lives with her long term beta boyfriend.

We arrive to the apartment and it’s just Bojangles, Twin 1 (10),Twin 2 (8.5) and myself. At this stage my week long feelings of not expecting anything from the night seem to be correct, and I’m content either way. 30 minutes in and another girl arrives who is going to be staying for the weekend (8) who is some strange mix of English, American, Sri Lankan and most probably Avatar given how long her legs are. She’s extremely chatty and the environment changes. It’s gone from being a relaxed get together to being a full on, almost wildlife-esque, sexual tug-of-war.

I’ve met the twins before, but throwing this alien catalyst into the mix upped the ante into a full on sexual market place showcase bonanza. The twins know about game and pick up, and they proceed to tell this new girl about it. I’ve been negging her a bit, and then randomly complimenting her, before negging her about something else. She’s labelled me “the international man of mystery” because I’m being coy about myself while she spills her boring guts about her life.

I’m trying not to yawn as I watch her eyes sparkle at me and her attraction growing for me. She’s gone from being loud and chatty – and generally ditzy American girlish – to being quite timid in front of me and submissive. I hadn’t even turned the gears up, [Read more…]